


Five times Aziraphale knew Crowley was in love with him, and one time Crowley knew Aziraphale loves him back

by Poison_writes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale centric, Confused Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dialogue Light, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Just talk to each other idiots, Love Confessions, M/M, Me projecting myself onto Crowley never heared of that, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pinning Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of, They are stupid, They love each other and its cannon fight me, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, first work in english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:15:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poison_writes/pseuds/Poison_writes
Summary: Crowley had always considered himself unlovable. Not for any particular character trades he possessed but just for the sake of being a demon. On the other hand, he knew he himself was capable of love. He spent centuries trying to push it down, or condition himself out of it, but nothing really worked. Especially when that stupid angel of his was around. He often found himself thinking that it if there really was anyone ever who could really feel something even remotely close to love towards such a rotten being, he considered himself to be, it would have been Aziraphale. Because he was just that kind. Because he was just that angelic.ORThey are stupid and never talk about their feelings.Oh, also I was in the middle of series when I started writing this so it losely mixes cannon from both book and TV show (e. g. a bit different scene in burning bookshop, no punishment from hell and heaven).Just so you know.





	Five times Aziraphale knew Crowley was in love with him, and one time Crowley knew Aziraphale loves him back

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so I'm very anxious about posting this. I tripple checked like everything but I'm really sorry if it's bit rusty. Also big BIG thanks to my gf for beta and corrections!

**First time**

Aziraphale was an angel. He could feel love, of course he could. The core of his being was designed to unconditionally love everything. But besides that, he could feel love that was not his own, he could sort of detect it. Whenever he passed a couple or a mother with her child or even a newly finished building of which its architect had been incredibly proud of, he could feel that someone or something is being loved. It made the heart of his terrestrial vessel swell and warm feeling spread across his chest. Well, that was the easiest way to describe it, although it was much more complicated. He always knew about this ability of his but never really paid too much attention to it. It was simply something that happened from time to time and it didn’t really have any practical use except that it reassured him there still was something good inside humans.

He probably should have noticed it much sooner, but he never really realized the source of it. The first time he really knew where that feeling came from was nowhere else than in the city of love itself - Paris. To be honest there was not much love present in France during that time as the revolution was at its peak. The greatest pleasure for people of Paris at that time was watching heads of (almost) innocent people getting chopped off on guillotine. 

Shortly after his rescue by someone an angel like himself should not have expected a demon, Aziraphale found himself slowly calming down in quiet restaurant outside of the very center of the city, with someone who probably should have been his arch enemy sitting across the table. “It is a job of one of yours, I suppose,” the angel commented without any anger in his voice. His mouth still felt dry after the extremely troubling situation he was in just few minutes prior. He was not particularly scared of dying, no, he doubted he would even feel that, but firstly the paperwork of explaining what happened to his old body and secondly the even more complicated one regarding getting a new one assigned worried him beyond his imagination. 

Crowley, who seemed to be distracted by the crowd passing the restaurants window, turned to him with what appeared to be questioning look behind his shades.

“I said, that all of this,” Aziraphale repeated while waving his hands in the air lightly, trying to express he meant the entire situation in the country, “it is work from someone on your side, isn’t it? If not yours especially.”

A small grin appeared on the demon’s face. “I wish,” he answered and somehow it almost sounded sad, or disappointed. “These stupid humans don’t even need tempting anymore for them to do such a thing, they can figure it out all by themselves.” The small smirk on his face deepened and turned into a smile, almost devilish someone might say (and they would be right). “That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to take credit for it.”

Something inside of Aziraphale’s guts, if he even had any, tightened as he heard that all this bloodshed was not on behalf of the Down Below, but humanity itself better. In attempt to move from that unpleasant information that he had just learned, the angel asked another question. “If this is not your fault, what are you doing in Paris then?” 

“Heard something was going down here, thought it might be exciting,” to be honest, this exactly was not what Crowley had expected from his visit. Riots and chaos? Yes, sure, but up to one hundred beheadings a day, that was something different. Waiter finally arrived with their a bottle of wine and apologised that the crepes might take a little longer as the chef hadn’t arrived to work today. He is probably dead, the demon thought immediately. Once they were alone again, he continued. “Then I saw your name on time table – did you know they had time tables for executions? Terribly convenient. Really clever, I would say. And I just wanted to watch you struggle.”

“But you came to save me instead,” Aziraphale remarked.

“Don’t say that word.”

“What ‘save’?” the angel smiled, it seemed almost funny to him how his friend was sensitive about words that could even suggest Crowley was not entirely evil.

The demon made a quiet noise that could only be described as disgust. “Yeah, that.” He sipped his wine and kept his eyes pinned to it after he put the glass down, unable to face the man sitting in front of him. “I just wanted to spare you the two hundred years of paperwork.”

And there it was. Warm feeling inside of Aziraphale’s chest that he did not recognize as his own. For the two weeks he had spent in France this familiar sensation never occurred as the whole country was sunk in deep feelings of rage and fear. He could not identify the source of it, until it finally hit him.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said softly, so only Crowley could hear. “Or could it be that you would miss me, if I was gone for that long?

The ginger haired man, who was absolutely relaxed up to that point, flinched in his chair before leaning back and crossing his arms on his chest. “No, definitely not. Why would I?” he hissed through his teeth almost too quickly.

“I would miss you too, Crowley,” replied Aziraphale almost as if he did not hear him. He felt pleased for some reason. If it was not a sin, he would even feel proud for bringing up such feelings inside of a demon. He was not too surprised though, he always believed Crowley to be different. Being too deep inside his own thoughts he didn’t even notice Crowley spit out something like “shove it, angel.” However, their crepes arrived and soon topic of discussion turned to how almost getting executed was really worth something this delicious.

**Second time**

Shortly after their return from France Crowley had vanished. He didn’t contact Aziraphale in any of his usual ways and they didn’t even happen to bump into each other randomly like they usually did. The angel believed it was due to some devilish no good business Crowley was currently up to. He must have gotten some mission or something of that sort, maybe he was even out of country. After a few moths Aziraphale stopped thinking about it. Few years passed and the angel paid all of his attention towards his growing book collection, which he had to make into a store, as the number of books he collated started to resemble a library. It took him half a to start missing the demon. Missing his company. Nothing was really much fun without him and Crowley was truly the only being he could have honest conversation with. Humans seemed to be incredibly stubborn when it came to the “I’m thousand years old angel” thing.

If he was too about to start searching for Crowley, the best place to do so was probably the flat demon used to rent. Aziraphale was sure that after fifty years he had to move out or pretended to die at least, or something of that sort, but maybe someone there knew something.

The closer he got to his place the more nervous he got. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. As he approached the place, he managed to identify the unpleasant feeling as fear and soon he recognized Crowley’s magic. He must have spread that around so that no one would go in. Possibly so he could later return to his flat without worrying about someone else renting it. It could also have been a sign that Crowley was still there. Aziraphale was not so sure about that.

The angel knocked on the door, but no one answered even after he had repeated it several times. He decided to go against his morals and just miracle himself inside. First thing that hit his nose was the smell. No one has opened the windows there for very, very long time. All of the furniture was covered with a thick layer of dust suggesting that no one was using the flat. Aziraphale wanted to leave, but his curiosity was stronger that his angelic subconscious telling him he just broke into somebody’s flat. 

He went upstairs and just in case called out a quiet “hello?”, but there was obviously no answer. In the living room he recognized some of Crowley’s belongings. He couldn’t have left for long, thought the angel. Which was immediately followed by anxious: something must have happened to him. That fear was overcome by sheer terror as he heard a strange noise from the bedroom. Swallowing all his fears about what might be waiting for him there, he decided to step in. The door creaked as he opened it.

“Hello,” he said softly once more so that the possible creature hiding in the bedroom knew he was not coming to do any harm. 

To his surprise the only thing he found in there was ginger head peaking from layers and layers of covers. The strange sound must have been Crowley’s snoring then. Aziraphale tiptoed towards the bed and kneeled next to his head. He gently moved piece of hair away from the demon’s face to see if he was fine. Everything suggested that. He moved his hand to where his Crowley’s shoulder should have been under all the covers and gently shook with it. “Crowley,” he almost whispered. “My dear, are you quite alright?” he said, bit more loudly this time.

The demon made a small sound before blinking several times. His yellow eyes finally opened and he was staring at the blonde in front of him. “Zira,” he muttered quietly, clearly still half asleep. That abbreviation of Aziraphale’s name was something he haven’t heard in so many years, centuries even. Actually, the last time Crowley called him like that was still in Heaven, before his fall. Just the word itself sent shivers down angel’s spine, it appeared to him as something very intimate and, more importantly, unexpected. And then, there it was again, that unexplainable feeling of love, which could not have come from anywhere else besides the sleepy male. It made Aziraphale bite his lips in some strange feeling very close to shame. “Am I in heaven yet?” Crowley mumbled still not moving at all.

“For your own sake I really hope you are not,” angel remarked smiling to himself. He must have admitted Crowley looked sort of cute. He seemed so much more peaceful than usual, but that was definitely caused by centuries long nap. “I came looking for you,” he said simply to explain his presence.

“Wanna get in bed with me?” 

In quick panic that washed over him Aziraphale double checked himself if Crowley used ‘tempting’ on him. He could feel nothing strange. It was a genuine innocent request from the sleepy demon then. Before he could think through his answer Crowley freed a hand from under his covers, grabbed his arm and pulled him on bed next to him.

That move surprised Aziraphale so much he didn’t find himself refusing and getting up again. He just laid down his human vessel entirely stiff as he was unsure what Crowley expected from him. The demon threw one hand and one leg over him and rested his face on his shoulder. “Sleep with me, angel,” he mumbled weakly, as he was slowly falling back to his unconscious state. He was absolutely understood. Aziraphale knew, he didn’t mean sex, he was obviously too tired for that, he just wanted company. The warm feeling inside of him intensified. He could feel the warm fuzziness spread through his entire body. Somehow it felt different this time. He didn’t feel love he felt loved. In the most unexpected place, next to a demon, one of the most powerful and dangerous creatures to ever walk among humans, he felt loved and safe. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it,” Crowley managed to get this last sentence out before he fell asleep again. 

Aziraphale just sort of laid there for some time. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep and so he didn’t even try. He would hug the demon back but it didn’t feel appropriate, almost as if he was taking advantage of his partner’s tiredness. Staying motionless for a while not to wake Crowley up again seemed like the right thing to do. His concerns were proved wrong as Crowley was perfectly alright, just sleeping for few decades. Aziraphale knew he had done it before and there was really no harm in it. The demon was fast asleep next to him and he should be leaving. As much as he wanted to stay to feel just a little bit more of that strange love feeling, it was slowly fading away, probably due to Crowley’s unconsciousness. 

The best thing to do would probably be to talk about it once both of them are awake. Yes, it was the most sensible, but little did Aziraphale knew they wouldn’t get to that point for at least few centuries. He gently moved Crowley’s limbs and stood up. He spent just a few seconds trying to memorize the peaceful expression he had so rarely on. 

Before finally leaving he miracled all dust away.

**Third time**

It was in that church during world war two when Aziraphale figured out he was absolutely certain about his feelings towards Crowley. He was in love with him. He was in love with him because Crowley was something entirely different from the other demons. He didn’t come that night to just save an ally he could lose; he came to help out a friend. It was no longer just about sparing Aziraphale from paperwork, like the demon had claimed in Paris all those years ago. This time Crowley came because he clearly wanted to help and save his books even. Moreover, he walked straight into a church for him, which was something that in worst case could kill him, in best make him extremely vulnerable and it definitely limited his powers to bare minimum. It was clear he was risking a lot by doing such a thing. That was some sort of very un-devil like behavior. Of course, the angel knew way before his friend was nothing like the rest of the agents from Down there, but from that point he had never doubted it again.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift,” Crowley suggested as they were walking from the remains of the church.

“I don’t think I can ask that from you after everything you have done for me today,” Aziraphale tried to turn down the offer. “I would really hate it to be a bother to you.”

“Nonsense,” Crowley shook his head and pointed at the car across the street. It was black and slick and Aziraphale was pretty sure he had never seen anything like that. It must have been very new. (Or maybe it was that he never paid much attention to cars.) “Get in, angel,” he ordered.

Aziraphale didn’t protest and did as he was told. Pleasant smell of pine hit angel’s nose. He melted into the seat as all stress from that awful evening left his body. Sirens were still going off and occasionally they could hear a bomb dropping, but that troubled neither of them. Crowley, because he didn’t really care, knowing that nothing could happen to the two of them in this car nor Aziraphale, because he decided that a little miracle never harmed anyone and it would be really convenient if no one died during bombing that night. 

The car started, probably just because Crowley wanted it to, he didn’t even have to turn the key. “Where to then? Soho? My flat? Maybe we could have a drink there.”

The angel blushed lightly turning his sight from the demon. Even though the bag with books was still pressed firmly into his chest almost as if he was afraid to lose it, he could still feel it. Love. And this time he knew the demon was not the only one in car feeling that way. “I must say I could use a drink, but I really don’t want to trouble you, dear.” 

“You never do,” Crowley replied quietly without taking his eyes of the road ahead of them. “My flat it is, then.”

He drove slowly. It almost made the blonde feel tired. Or maybe it was just the pleasant atmosphere inside of the vehicle. Aziraphale had no doubt Crowley felt it too, some sort of unspoken affection between the two of them. What he failed to consider was that Crowley wasn’t even half as empathetic as the angel.

**Fourth time**

Crowley pulled his long ginger hair back in a ponytail and it was clear he struggled to do so as his drunken mind tried to navigate his hands. Seeing Aziraphale had no intention in sitting down on sofa next to him he laid down spreading his limbs all over as if he owned the place. He looked up at his friend who was leaning against the bookshelves staring right into his wine glass. He seemed a little gloomy and that was a nice way to put it. He let Crowley drink good half of the bottle himself before he even started to talk.

“Care to explain to me what are we drinking over again?” Crowley raised his eyebrow.

“I had to sell it,” Aziraphale whined with one of the most hopeless looks the demon had ever seen on his face.

“Sell what?”

“One of my books,” he cried out sounding absolutely devastated. This earned him almost amused stare from Crowley. “The customer, who was interested in it, just kept coming back and asking about it. Nothing helped! Not even the glare,” the glare was something Aziraphale had developed over the years of owning a bookshop without actually being willing to sell a single book. Whenever a customer was truly interested in any of his books and all of his other tactics would fail, Aziraphale would glare at the person in the way they had never been glared upon. In 99% of cases it made them leave and never come back. “I had no other choice but to sell it.”

Crowley let out a low groan. “It was one book, angel, how many of them do you have? Thousands?” 

“But I don’t want to sell them,” Aziraphale opposed, his tone still as helpless as before. “That’s not what I got them for.”

When he got no sympathy from his friend, he sat aside his glass and crossed his arms on his chest. If the demon wanted to play with him, well, it was going to be fair game. “You don’t understand, you never can.” The way he pronounced you was enough for Crowley to realize that it meant ‘you, a demon, who could never develop anything as positive attitude towards anything even as simple object.’ It wasn’t what Aziraphale had meant, though, his you had been actually ‘someone who doesn’t read books’.

“Which book was it?” 

“Why?”

“Just tell me.”

Aziraphale answered. 

“Fine,” Crowley muttered, “I’ll get it back for you.”

Angel’s eyes lit up. “You could really do that?”

The other nodded. “Meet me for dinner tomorrow, yeah? I bet I’ll have it by then.”

“Thank you, dear, you really are,” Aziraphale wondered if Crowley was drunk enough to hear this, “such a good friend to me.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” he waved his hand in the air dismissing what he had just heard. Still he had to convince his human vessel not to blush.

It was the things like this. Aziraphale saw Crowley was more than willing to do things for him that brought no benefit to him. That made him different from other demons but also from everyone else the angel had ever met. It wasn’t that Crowley found pleasure in doing good things, he found pleasure in doing them for Aziraphale. And maybe it was selfish, but he found that delightful. He liked knowing the demon is willing to sacrifice time and sometimes personal comfort for him. 

They spend the rest of the even drinking and talking about, well, whatever it was that an angel and a demon can talk about.

Suddenly something occurred to Aziraphale, who was now sitting on the floor since he didn’t trust his legs to hold him up any longer. “Why do you never take off your glasses around me? Even when we are alone?”

Crowley tensed and sit up on the sofa. “I don’t know,” his hands trailed to temple of his glasses, but he didn’t take them off. “I don’t want to scare you, I guess.”  
“Why would your eyes scare me? I have seen them already.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean you can’t, you know, dislike seeing me like that,” Crowley mumbled. He thought about that a lot, not showing Aziraphale his eyes as much as possible. Mostly because they had history. The angel knew what his eyes used to look like. Crowley worried seeing them now might upset him in some way.

“I like your eyes,” the other smiled. He stretched over to where the wine bottle was standing and gave himself a generous pour. 

“Oh, okay,” Crowley whimpered, absolutely forgetting about having to control his facial expression and more importantly the color of his skin.

“I think they look great on you,” he continued and Crowley could do nothing but hope he wouldn’t notice how much he is blushing. Never the less he took his glasses off. Because that was what his angel obviously wanted.

“Stop it already, I get it now,” the demon shook his head and rather turned the conversation to where they are going to eat the next day.

**Fifth time**

The bus was quiet and everything in the world felt stopped. Slowed-down. Out of time. To Aziraphale it felt like the Earth was getting back to its natural order after almost being destroyed, like it was being reprogrammed again so it could go on in the same way it always had. It was almost as if they were in short vacuum between the old and new world. 

Crowley was looking out of window, away from his friend sitting next to him and he was clearly nervous. It could have been because all of they had just been through, but Aziraphale was extremely aware that their hands were touching. He wouldn’t have even realized if he wasn’t watching Crowley for good quarter an hour slowly moving his hand towards his. It sorts of amused him. If he wanted to hold hands, the demon should have just asked. Aziraphale wouldn’t mind.

Crowley’s little finger was twitching as he was fighting with himself if he really should be doing this. He took a deep breath (even though he didn’t need to) and closed his eyes under his shades. He curled his finger over the other’s as if they were making a pinkie promise. He tried to turn even further to window so to cover up his blush.

The angel let out a loud sign. Something similar to reconciliation shifted through his features. He took Crowley’s hand into his and pulled it into his lap. He could feel the demon almost yanking back but then relaxing under his touch. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley was aware of that “love” energy he was giving out. And if so, if he knew Aziraphale could feel it. He decided he shouldn’t worry about that in that moment. There is going to be plenty of time for worrying later. He leaned back into his seat unknowingly resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. He felt himself sink and disappear in that temporary feeling that everything in the world was alright. Sure, the fact that he could sense love was pleasant in itself, but being able to sense you are being loved, that was something entirely different. Aziraphale could get hooked on that feeling.

Silence that fell between them was more than comfortable. There were many things left unspoken, but there is going to be a better time to talk and figure everything out. The only thing they really had to do was rest. At least until they get to London.

**And one time**

Crowley had always considered himself unlovable. Not for any particular character trades he possessed but just for the sake of being a demon. This had really bothered him mostly during the short period after his Fall but then he had somehow learned to live with it. He could be desired, lusted after and maybe even liked, but never loved, not even in terms of friendship. Or so he thought. On the other hand, he knew he himself was capable of love. He spent centuries trying to push it down, or condition himself out of it, but nothing really worked. Especially when that stupid angel of his was around, being all kind and soft and awfully likeable, he could do nothing but love him. At first, he really thought it was just how angels made everyone around them feel, but during his long time spent on earth he met other agents from up there and never ever he felt the same with them as he did with Aziraphale. Even after realizing that, he just decided to ignore and avoid his feelings. There was no way his stupid crush or whatever it was could be both sided and even if it were, it wasn’t right. Despite not doing the right thing was pretty much the point of Crowley’s existence, he knew this could get him in trouble. And even worse, it could get his angel in trouble. 

He often found himself thinking that it if there really was anyone ever who could really feel something even remotely close to love towards such a rotten being, he considered himself to be, it would have been Aziraphale. Because he was just that kind. Because he was just that angelic. At the same time, even if the angel was capable of loving him, it wouldn’t be something special. It was probably how angels felt about everyone and everything. Programmed love towards all of living beings wasn’t exactly what Crowley fished for in their relationship.

After the almost end of the world Crowley often worried about consequences the two of them might suffer. Sure, if someone in hell were mad at him, he would immediately know, he’d probably be dissolved in holy water by the end of the evening of almost Armageddon. They still left him small tasks to do and even required a report from him sometimes as if nothing happened. However, communication with his superiors became subject of everyday almost unbearable anxiety to him. Somehow logically he knew nothing bad was going to happen but he still feared. Constant worry clouding his mind and disabling him from fully concentrating on anything was probably the best punishment hell could have sent on him, if it really was their job. 

It could have been almost half a year after the world should have ended, when loud and urgent banging on the door of his bookshop made Aziraphale loose concentration towards book in front of him. It was very old fragile German handwriting and he had to be incredibly careful with it.

“I’m coming!” he shouted as the banging continued, progressively getting more and more furious. He closed the book gently and put it back into its cover and quickly removed his rubber gloves before he finally went to open up. Who could it be at such an, well, ungodly hour? The obnoxious sound didn’t stop until the very second Aziraphale opened the door.

Of course, it had to be Crowley standing outside. Except this time, he was horribly different from his usual appearance, his ginger hair sticking in every direction possible, his shades on top of his read and his snake-like pupils wide, almost round. The worst thing was his terrified expression, as if he saw a ghost, humans would say (Aziraphale knew that wasn’t the case, Crowley has seen ghosts before and they were more scared of him that he could ever be of them).

The demon threw his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulled him into his chest. This took angel by surprise and he didn’t even find himself reacting except for wrapping around the sacred ginger. “You are alright,” Crowley whispered under his breath few times while still not letting go of his friend. Aziraphale would have felt like it was hard to breathe, if he even needed to, but the hug was still quite pleasant surprise. He finally decided to gently push him away after what felt like good few minutes. He still kept his hands on the other’s arms.

“What happened, Crowley?” he asked with a little worried tone. There weren’t many times in history when he had seen his demon this upset.

“Nothing, nothing,” Crowley mumbled breathlessly and took shaky step back. “I thought something happened, but you are here, you are fine, so it was just,” he paused mid-sentence and froze, he has just realized how late it was and that Aziraphale probably had better things to do, “never mind, I should get going.” He turned quickly and wanted to go away, but the angel grabbed his arm firmly to hold him in place.

“Don’t you think I’m letting you go anywhere in such state. Come in, I’ll make you tea if you’d like.”

Crowley couldn’t help but obey and followed Aziraphale into small room at the back of his shop. “Don’t you have wine or something?” he protested against the tea suggestion.

“You don’t seem like you should be drinking alcohol right now,” the blonde opposed as he showed his friend to sit down on an old sofa. “Maybe hot cocoa would be even better, don’t you think?”

Crowley felt way too exhausted to argue and just nodded mindlessly.

Few minutes later Crowley seemed to have calmed down and was sat down with a steaming cup in his hands and with Aziraphale on the other side of sofa. 

“So, do you care to explain what that was about?” the angel asked trying not to sound too harsh, he didn’t want to upset the demon again, but he was eager to find out what was going on.

Crowley shifted in his seat and took a long sip before he brought himself to answer. “I think I had a dream,” he began. Now, demons don’t originally dream, no, but the longer they possess a human vessel the more abilities such as this come to them. Crowley dreamt occasionally, but it didn’t happen too often and his dreams were far more different from human ones. Pictures and sounds weren’t as important as feelings. They came to him strong and it felt paralyzing. He hated dreaming. “I don’t know, sometimes I can hardly tell the difference.”

“Well, and what was your dream about?” Aziraphale suggested as the other seemed to have lost the track.

“Uh, about you,” Crowley murmured quietly, “well, about your book store. I was looking for you, in the fire. But it was different. I knew hell caused it. I knew you were dead; I knew you were gone. I mean, I wasn’t just worried about it, I literally knew it. I,” he let out an exhausted sigh, “I don’t even know, this is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Crowley,” Aziraphale replied softly. He would have never though his friend would be this upset about just a dream of losing him. It felt strangely flattering. “Come here,” he sat with a soft smile and tapped his thighs hoping he hadn’t overstepped some boundary that wasn’t clearly settled. The demon seemed unsure of what Aziraphale meant by that, but he put aside his cocoa a and laid himself on sofa, placing his head in Aziraphale’s lap. A brief thought about how this was probably the most intimate thing he has ever done without any devilish intentions crossed his mind. He quickly suppressed that and just tried to relax.

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” Aziraphale reassured, “I’m still here, with you.” His fingers brushed against Crowley’s hair. It was an accident at first, but the angel decided that he could allow himself a bit selfishness in this situation. He tangled his fingers into the ginger hair and began to stroke it softly. The demon didn’t seem to mind. If something, Aziraphale felt like he noticed a small smile on his lips. “I will always be,” he added finally.

This felt like a knife stabbed right next to Crowley’s heart (but then again, he probably didn’t have any) although it was somehow pleasant. “I hope so.” This was probably the most honest Crowley has ever been with his friend. After everything they have been through it felt only appropriate. A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, before the demon found the guts to speak up again. “I would go against entire hell, if it was for you,” he said much bolder than he probably should have. 

“You already did, dear,” Aziraphale smiled. However, the idea of Crowley rebelling against everything for a future with him felt ridiculous, it was exactly what happened. Angel felt somewhat thankful for that.

His friend turned in his lap so now they were facing each other. “I mean, I would fight them, if they tried to hurt you or something.”

Don’t be silly, Aziraphale wanted to brush him off, but stopped himself before he could. Fighting the entire hell was incredibly stupid, but so was Crowley. “I would fight for you too,” he decided was what he actually should and wanted to say.

They were silent again once more, before Crowley sat up quickly (it made Aziraphale flinch, since he thought the demon was asleep). He turned on the couch, face now just few inches from the other’s. Angel felt him took a deep breath. “Aziraphale, I lo- “

He wasn’t allowed to finish as the angel pressed a finger against his lips. “I know.” He moved his hand from his lips to his cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. There was a smile on his face as if nothing incredibly important to future dynamic of their entire relationship was happening.

“Oh,” was the only thing that managed to escape Crowley’s lips. It was surprised and slightly confused sound.

“And I feel the same, Crowley.”

“What?!”

“I thought that was obvious by now.”

The widely opened snake eyes blinked a few times as he tried to process what was happening. “I mean, I guess it was,” Crowley whined, “I just thought it was because you were an angel and all of that, you know. Like you are supposed to like everything.” He put special empathies on the word like, he obviously meant love but was suddenly afraid to say it out loud. What if he has been misunderstood and both of them have been talking a different thing.

Aziraphale, though, knew exactly what Crowley meant. “I am and I do. But you are something special.”

“Oh, okay,” the demon choked onto his words and furious blush spread across his face. Aziraphale released him from his embrace and he lied back down. That was not the response he had expected, but he was too surprised to question it. He held up his hand, the angel took the hint and tangled their fingers together. Comfortable silence fell between them once again.

“How long have you known?” Crowley decided to break the silence. It was stupid and cliché question in such situation but he needed to know. “That you, uh, feel that way?”

“I think I felt it before, but I was really sure in 1941, when you saved me,” he smiled to himself at that memory, “and my books too.”

“1941,” Crowley repeated and it had a strange tone to it, something bitter, maybe a little disappointment. Aziraphale felt that.

“Well, how long have you known?”

“I don’t know, since Eden probably,” he muttered under his breath hoping the other wouldn’t hear and just dismiss the answer. Suddenly he felt stupid and sort of defeated, it wasn’t exactly normal for a demon to be in love for 6 000 years.

“That’s a long time,” Aziraphale remarked and just the way he said it made Crowley relax again, like everything was okay or at least will be from now on. The angel lifted his companion’s hand and pressed a small kiss on the knuckles. “Sorry I made you wait.” 

“It’s okay now,” he shouldn’t have expected his angel to be as fast forward as he was. Crowley knew he would have to slow down for him sometimes and he was ready to. “I would wait 6 000 years more.”

“Cheesy,” the blonde chuckled.

Crowley let out a quiet laugh. “Who taught you to talk like that?”


End file.
